


cleanse your sins by fire

by MunkUnk



Series: 30 day challenge [1]
Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Gen, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:15:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26294725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MunkUnk/pseuds/MunkUnk
Summary: **Alternate universe**They call it rehabilitation. He feels it is more of a prison.There's nothing here that makes him feel as if he is going to get out of this place alive.The young man who visits him may be his only chance at an escape.But he will have to act quickly.
Series: 30 day challenge [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1910548
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> AU.   
> Set in the 1800's, late 1800's.

Things could have been better.   
They could have been worse.   
This was not the life he had imagined for himself as a child, then again… what had he expected? With a stepfather like Kurt Marko he had not been given many choices. He and Cain had both been forced into roles at the prison run by their father. Built with his mothers’ money.   
Cain rather seemed to enjoy his role here, Charles, however, was not so keen on it. Though he had made a few friends among the staff, including his father’s bounty hunter, Logan.   
That man seemed to be able to track down any man, woman, or child, without any qualms. ‘money is money, bub.’ He would often say when Charles questioned him.  
It was not as if he did not enjoy the life of ease he was living, despite his comfort here there was something he was seeking out there. He simply was not aware of what he was looking for.   
He was just looking for a way out of here, when he saw Logan coming through the gate, dragging a man behind his horse, bound with rope and pulled across the rocky grounds. There was a trail of blood behind them, and Charles was sure the man was unconscious.   
Logan looked worse for wear, himself. And Charles was concerned.   
What had happened?   
And why was he killing that other man? 

“Cain” Charles said brusquely as he turned away from the window, “please excuse me. Logan has just arrived.” Cain grunted in response and turned his sword over on the desk as he continued to polish it Charles rolled his eyes and walked out of the room. 

As he walked through the halls Charles pulled his handkerchief out and wiped his brow, the heat was unbearable. But then, maybe it was the pressure of living underneath the weight of this fake identity. This was not who he was. And he did not belong here.   
How he longed for his books, and the feel of the silk sheets he had slept between while attending Oxford. His mouth watered at the thought of having some real tea. And he fondly recalled the taste of the whiskey on his tongue (before it was chased after by the other young man’s tongue).   
He missed the simpler life he had been able to live, far away from Kurt.   
He missed his freedom. 

As he exited the building and began his walk across the yard to get to the stables, he saw Logan dismounting and walking around behind the horse, hopefully to cut the rope. “Did he hurt you?” Charles asked as a slight smirk spread across his lips, Logan looked over towards him and shook his head.   
Charles was confused. There was blood dried in his hair, and blood dried on his face, on his clothes. Who had been injured? 

“He was hurting everyone else, bub.” Logan said as if he were reading Charles’ mind, he unsheathed one claw and cut the rope. “He’s still alive.” Logan added with some distaste, he sounded angry. As if he had intended the man to be dead upon arrival.   
Charles knew he shouldn’t but he felt himself slipping into the mind of the man lying unconscious on the ground. Completely unprepared for what he was about to see. Absolute wrath, nothing but hatred was running in the surface. Beneath that was fear and hurt. Pain that was eating him alive. Deep inside was a hidden pain. Something was broken inside of his mind, and Charles could not get to it.   
“My God.” Charles whispered as he directed his gaze to Logan. 

There was no verbal response, but the look Logan gave him indicated that he had been there to witness what had happened. “How many?” Charles finally asked, and Logan shook his head as he turned his gaze to the ground, 

“Twelve.” He finally said, and Charles felt a pain in his heart.   
“Why?”   
“His family…” Logan sighed, and there was something heavy in his tone “the men had taken fire to them.” Logan turned towards Charles “They were still living.” He added and Charles shivered.   
He wasn’t sure if there would be anything that he could do to fix this man (would he even have the chance?) “This is” Charles said slowly “a home for rehabilitation.” He said softly, but he could see by the look Logan gave him that he did not see a future for this one.   
“Take him to see the doctor.” Charles added “And see to it that he is… still with us.” Logan grunted and bent down, scooping the rather large man up he threw him over his shoulder like a sack of grain,   
“I got ya’, bub.” Logan muttered as he walked away, looking disgruntled.


	2. chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's not lost, but he's not sure where he is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set in the late 1800's. The tea is a hallucinogenic, specifically peyote.

Something did not feel right. His eyes were unfocused. His arms felt heavy. He wanted to move, he wanted to get up and walk to the window. But he could not even raise his hands. Twisting his hand to the side slightly he realized his hands were tied down.

It became clear to him that he was not able to sense any metal in the room. His body was barely reacting to his movements.

Where was he?

What was the last thing that he remembered?

_Fire_

_Death_

_Family_

There was something in the room. And he was trying not to choke on his own emotions. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate. But there was fire behind his eyelids.

“What do you see?” He heard a soft smooth voice, deep and gentle and he could breathe again.

“They’re burning my family.” He whispers. His beautiful little daughter. _Anya._ His wonderful wife.

His wonderful life.

“Why?”

“Because… I… I am different.”

He had wanted to help. The mine was collapsing. He was only trying to help. He had known to keep his differences hidden.

“What is different about you?” there is a soft feeling on his stomach, and he opens his eyes slowly. The room is different now, something was wrong. The walls seemed to be breathing. There was a hand on the back of his neck, forcing him into a sitting position, and holding a cup to his lips. His mouth felt strange. The cup felt strange on his lips.

The warmth was rising from the cup, and it was tilted, and he took a slow sip. It was disgusting. But he was so thirsty. He took another sip. The cup was pulled away, and he was laid back down on the bed. He knew the ceiling was made of stone. Yet it seemed to be moving.

“I can…” he shifted on the bed, trying to look around. But he could not see past the dust particles floating in the air “…control metal…” he tried to move his fingers. It felt as if his hands were melting.

“I wanted to help.” He says as his eyes close, and he can see himself standing in the mine.

They were going home.

They were friends. They were all laughing and talking. They were walking down the path towards the exit. And the world started to tremble.

They were all scared. He knew he would be alright. But he knew they would all die. He is not willing to let these men die. He dropped his tools and raised his hands, the rumbling continued but the mine had not caved in. He was holding it up with the ore in the rocks, the nails in the boards. He was struggling. But he would die to save these men.

They were frightened. He looked at them _Go now. I cannot hold it._ This seemed to frighten them more. The men scrambled out of the mine, he followed behind. The only difference was that he was hovering above the ground. They were looking at him with eyes wide and hands trembling, scrambling backward to get away from him. _What is wrong?_ He asked as he came to rest on the ground, holding his hands out passively he offered a smile _I was only helping_ he offered

 _What did you do?_ One man yelled _he destroyed the mine!_ Another one whispered _He is going to kill us_ the words were dizzying _he will raze the town to the ground!_ They feared him.

They took to the road, grabbing their horses and mounting as they ran from him. What had he done?

They were gone.

He could hear their cries of _demon he is a demon_ as they rode down the street.

It occurred to him shortly after that he had to get back to his family. He had to leave.

He started to run towards the town. His feet hit the ground so hard that it hurt all the way through his thigh, he ran as fast as he could. He could hear the shouts, the fear-mongering, as he approached the main road, everything was going by in a blur.

He was shaking, his body was aching. Sweat running through his eyes, burning.

_Burning._

His family was burning.

They were screaming for help.

He was trying to help.

_He had only been trying to help_

He started to charge towards the crowd of people watching his family burn.

He realized that he was screaming. He saw the guns raising in his direction, but he didn’t hear anything outside of his heart pounding in his ears. He put his hands forward in a violent motion as the spray of bullets came towards him.

It was satisfying when he saw those same bullets ripping through their skulls.

_He had saved these people. He had done this._

“There was nothing you could have done to save them, Erik.” The voice is soothing. And Erik feels his chest heaving. Feels the wet on his face. He is sobbing. His body is wracked with pain. And his mind is roiling in turmoil.

“I should have let them die.” He hears his voice; he feels hatred in his bones. Humans should pay for this. He will get his revenge.

“You are here” there is something brushing against his cheek, and he sees bright bursts of color in his eyes. Pleasure. “to ensure you do not pursue any delusions you may have for revenge. You are here for your rehabilitation.”

He can not speak. He knows he is looking into someone’s eyes. But he can not see anyone.

He sees only a dark outline. And piercing blue depths where his eyes should be. _You will stay with me, Erik._ He hears the voice in his mind.

He flinches. _You belong here with me, now._ There is a soft warmth in the center of his mind _I will guard you against these memories. I will not let you suffer._

There is something there in the voice, something akin to reassurance.

Erik tries to turn his head away. There is a memory there. He is a young boy. And he is meeting a young girl. Their families live near to one another and they would like to join their families.

There is a love there. She smiles at him; he reaches for her hand.

There is a life there. A life they lived together.

She reaches back, and he smiles.

She is gone.

And so is his memory of her.

_Sleep now, my friend._


	3. 3

He was fully aware that what he was doing could be wrong. On many levels.

As Logan entered this office, he turned his attention to the older man. “Logan” he said gently as put his quill pen down, and rose to his feet “the man you brought in” he picked up a few papers and extended his hand towards the other man “did he have any identification?”

Frowning Logan took the papers and folded them, sliding them into his pocket he nodded “His name is Erik Lehnsherr.” He said quietly, almost nervously.

“And what exactly did his…” he paused as he tried to find a way to put this into words.

“He seemed to be using metal objects. Tearing houses down and ripping apart the mines. The railroad tracks were also… quite an interesting sight.” Logan answered as if he knew what it was Charles was looking for. “Did he live?” he added.

Nodding Charles made his way to the window. “Do you believe we can ever return him to society?”

“I don’t, bub. They’re always going to want revenge for their kinfolk lost to him. They think he’s a maniac.” Logan was always so straight forward. Charles wished everyone could be more like that. 

But there was something in Logan’s words, something that Charles couldn’t quite pick up. For a moment he wondered how Logan would react if he were to slip into the other man’s mind for a moment, though he did resist the temptation; it was still there.  
  


“He could be of use to us.” Charles finally said and Logan grunted in response.

“He is a very interesting client,” Charles added as he turned back towards Logan. “I need you to seek the Council of The Natives,” Charles said suddenly, and Logan turned to him slowly, confused.

“… all of this” he gestured vaguely “is because of them.” He sounded angry, and Charles was slightly taken aback.

“All of what?” he asked, his tone displaying evident disgust for the way Logan was talking.

“They made us freaks!” he snarled, and Charles scowled.

It wasn’t true. The genetic mutations had started long before their families had made it to shore, here.

Word of such things had simply never left the hospitals back home.

“I understand how you feel about them.” Charles finally said, “However I need you to bring them to me. At least the ones called Raven and Beast.”

The expression on Logans face told him more than Logan ever would,

“aye-aye, bub.” He muttered giving a half nod before turning and walking out the door.

**Author's Note:**

> part of a 30-day writing challenge i am working on.


End file.
